IPotatooo
One of the heroes of the city that was reckoned to stop the plague from its terrible plight and wrath over its citizens was a man that no one knew for his astounding acts of bravery, or his courage in the heart of battle, but for his heart and caring, his selflessness towards the citizens of Los Angeles and those in need of help. Desperate time had called for desperate measures and with the struggle of his family to get food on the table each day and make ends meet, the man knew that he had to take action. The bravery and courage he possessed allowed him to escalate quickly in the ranks of the Los Angeles Military Bureau, where he specialized specifically in the Infantry and Combat unit. Days were spent polishing rifles and practicing his aim on various bags of food and unwanted rations as he knew that one day, his time would come to be called into battle and he ever so desired to be prepared for such a fight. He rose with a determination like no other to serve in the line of duty and protect his family and the soldiers he had grew up with to call his brothers, and with a newfound confidence not seen in the likes of the soldier before, he dressed in his uniform and strode briskly out of the barracks and into the crisp morning air, with the expectation of yelling and screaming and a day of grueling training. The soldier that he was, he had been taught to prepare for anything that came his way, from a grenade landing in the middle of the unit to a barrage of bullets in the early morning air. However, the training curriculum had not yet covered how to engage in militia warfare or hand-to-hand combat with a solder in operation of a mechanized war suit complete with LMG's and battalion rockets. So, when he stepped outside of the door and his foot planted on the dirt road, the first thing that he had come into contact to that morning was a collection of sticks and gravel that dug into his cheek as he flew backwards face-first into the dust. The large metal robot loomed over him, its guns glistening in the early morning sun as they lowered down to greet his gaze. The man was smart enough not to engage in combat, for 9 millimeter bullets would not pierce the thick metal contraption. Instead, he stared blatantly up at it, up at his impending death. The armor-laden machine stopped in front of him and its gunner hand shot upright in a friendly-fire position. Confused, disoriented, the man got up from his safe haven in the dust and approached ever closer and ever more slowly to the killer machine that was on the verge of attacking. The least expected thing to happen at that moment in time happened. Instead of being greeted with a barrage of deadly silver bullet barrages, a hissing sound and a shroud of steam encroached the machine and a figure appeared from the dust. The man strode down the walkway and out of his safety haven in the control room of his steel contraption and, hands behind his back, looked expectantly down at the broken hero before him. A cigarette rested on the corner of his mouth where a scar seemed to pierce through his face and make contact with his bottom lip in gnarly roots of seared flesh. The soldier broke the silence first. "Hello, Commander." The so-called commander chuckled and strode past the man, leaving him to scramble to his feet in search of the answers that clung to the man's mouth like secrets yet to spill over the brim of his comfortability. Nothing was said as they strode forwards toward the command center and were greeted with a routine security check by a recruit in the military formation. It wasn't until they were in the glass elevator that lifted them up to their zone of expertise - the safe haven that took the shape of assault rifles and sparks flickering from the fire that cemented metal pieces together into battle suits of godlike power - that the silence was broken for a second time. "Soldier, Lieutenant Anderson tells me that you have been doing well in his unit and has seen it fit to promote you to military and communications intelligence. I said that was a bunch of bullshit, but your commander is the only one that can order you to a higher position. Be grateful." The man bowed his head in a sign of acknowledgement and respect to his superior. "I understand, sir. Thank you for -," The man was abruptly cut off by the rumbling of the wall behind him as he was slammed full-force into the metal, a hand that had been into contact with too many cheekbones and took too many lives now sinking its nails into the man's collarbone with every word emitted from behind his lips. His breath smelled like smoke, a foul stench that could not be erased from the soldier's memory no matter the kind of toothpaste used. "You listen to me, soldier. I call the orders around here. I've commanded too many men and seen too many violent and merciful deaths to last me a lifetime and beyond. It is not my time to take you up under my ranks but Command leaves me no choice, and since I desire this position more than you could ever value your life, I have to take care of your scrawny ass. Do. Not. Disobey. Me. Are we clear?" he spat out. The soldier winced in pain, each word the commander spoke being equalized with a painful closing of fingernails on a collarbone. "Yes... yes, sir." The soldier was let go and the official stepped off the elevator, leaving the man to scramble behind. "May I at least know your name, sir?" "I'm just somebody you'll know over the course of your lifetime. It don't matter my name. What's your soldier?" The cigarette still dangled from his thin fingers. "My nickname is Potato, sir. That's what the boys at home used to call me." The man chuckled, a low gravelly sound that Potato never wanted to hear again. "Well, Mr. Spud, you'll see your boys soon enough if you don't listen to me. Now suit up. It's war time." He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke emitting from his frail lips turning into wispy tendrils that curled at the edges as it wavered towards the atmosphere. The man now known as Potato snapped a salute and started off towards the barracks, unsure of this place he was to call his home. All of a sudden, he was slammed full-force back into the concrete by a massive object hurtling towards him, unidentifiable to the human eye. Then, the uncertainty of the entire situation was expanded once again, as his vision and everything surrounding him went black and he was lurched full-force into another battle: the unknown realm of oblivion.